


Something’s Wrong With Dean

by mishahub



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x03, AU, Angels, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, Blood, Break Up, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, Gore, Hallucinations, Hell, Hell Flashbacks, I didn’t intend to make this so sad smh, M/M, Nightmares, Season 15, Spoilers, Supernatural - Freeform, inner thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:54:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishahub/pseuds/mishahub
Summary: Supernatural AU based on tuttyfrustel’s brain storming:The apocalypse, losing Jack, losing his mom? It took quite a toll on Dean mentally. So much so that he keeps seeing demons roam the halls of the bunker and hearing voices haunt his head. Maybe they’re real, maybe they’re not.





	1. Chapter 1: The Over Thinker

**Author's Note:**

> based on an AU by @ tuttyfrustel on Instagram :)

"I'm fine." Dean says to himself one more time before he pulls out another beer from the fridge.

The demon following me isn't real.

It's all okay.

He leans on what he and Sam can call their kitchen island heavily, opening his beer with his hands instead of his shirt. For some reason, it hurt more than any other time he has opened a beer with his hands. He ignored the pain and drank his beer. If he had cut himself on the bottlecap, he wouldn't have known, nor would he have cared. He was too deep-- drowning-- in his own thoughts that he was too preoccupied to even acknowledge that he might've injured himself.

His hand was left unchecked.

_Mom's dead again. Again. Damn Dean, I really have buttery fingers, huh? No, try buttery aura. I can't take care of anything. I couldn't even protect my own mother._

_I take care of Baby..._

_Fuck my car. I knew Jack would snap one day and I trusted him, called him my son--what the hell is going on with me?_

_Jack is family..._

_Jack killed mom_.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, torn between the things going on inside his head. What the hell kind of things we're he thinking of? Jack is family, period.

Jack is family...

The more Dean thought on that, the more he questioned his belief in it. If he didn't trust Jack all the time, if he would've killed him from the start, would Mary be alive right now? Maybe.

_No, it doesn't matter_, Dean disagrees with himself. _Jack's soul was gone, he didn't know what he was doing._

_Say what you want. The fact still remains: Jack killed mom. He can't take that back. He payed for that with his life._

Dean cringed at that last thought, completely horrified that he had even thought it. Jack didn't deserve to die the way he did. Chuck was wrong. It's Chuck's fault. Chuck killed mom.

Everything's Chucks fault. Nothing is real. All his life is a lie.

"Dean?"

Dean jumped, literally spilling his bear all over himself as Sam had walked into the kitchen.

"Shit! Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Sam apologizes, quickly grabbing a towel from the dining table and throwing it to Dean, who had caught it poorly and quickly patted himself off with it.

Dean sighed heavily, putting down his empty beer bottle and looking down at his clothes. There was beer all over him, going on the way to his shoes. As Dean looked at the spill, he scolded himself for having spilled the beer in the first place, especially so much. If he would've just relaxed, stopped thinking so much, stop being so-

"It's fine..." Dean stopped himself from thinking any further, finding that it wasn't doing him any good, "I'll just go change."

And so, Dean put on the calmest face he could, trying to compose himself, because he knew if he were to express any other emotion now, he'd go off on Sam and hurt his feelings. Then by morning, Sam would avoid talking to him and they'd have a whole other fight the same day about Dean's "behavior."

"You really jumped there," Sam chuckled, "Like someone grabbed you by the short and curlies." He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer for himself, trying not to let Dean see so he couldn't look like an asshole. Dean didn't reply, though. He walked straight out the kitchen all the way to his room.

Almost immediately as he stepped foot in his room, he began to strip down from his beer soaked clothes, leaving his underwear, which was the only thing left dry. Tossing the dirty clothes aside, he grabbed some new ones in haste, trying not to spend too much time in his room, afraid something will come.

He doesn't know what will come, but he knows he has to go, to go before they get him...

Just as the clothes hit the ground and Dean looks up, he catches himself in the mirror. His reflection catches him off guard for a moment. This might of been the first time he's seen himself in the mirror since the souls broke out of hell.

_I look like shit._

He looked like a damn abstract painting under all the layers he just hauled off. The man was purple, black and blue. All bruises and cuts on his tough skin. When he thinks back, that's probably why he feels so miserable all the time. He knew he had gotten pretty hurt during his fight with the zombies, but, God, how could he have not noticed these?

As he pulls on his new set of clothes, he looks down for only a moment—just a fucking moment— before looking back up and catching not only himself in the mirror.

A demon. Yellow eyes.

Dean literally jumped back, instinctively grabbing for his gun. With a firm grip on it, he whips around and pulls the trigger once, sending an echoing blow throughout the entire bunker. But there's no one else in his room anymore, just a bullet hole in his wall. Dean looked around frantically, trying to find the demon he JUST saw, plain as day, behind him.

_No, no that looked too real. There has to be a demon in here, I can't be seeing things, no-_

_It's not real Dean, it's just your imagination._

_No! I saw him! Clear as I could see anyone else! All flesh and bones!_

"Dean!" Sam's voiced boomed as he burst into Dean's room. He had his own gun in his hands, ready to shoot whatever the hell Dean was shooting.

"What the hell is going on?"

"A-A demon! I saw it-it was there!" Dean pointed across his room. Sam looked, all he saw was a bullet hole in the wall. He turned back to Dean, only to see his crazed eyes.

"So, you missed?"

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and finally broke his stare with the bullet hole, "Missed?! What do y-"

"Are those the right bullets?" Sam put away his own gun in his pants and went to examine Dean's. The gun virtually fell out of Dean's hands before Sam grabbed it, unloaded it, and checked the tips of the bullets. There wasn't a devil's trap on them.

Sam begrudgingly reloaded the gun and flung it to the bed. "Okay first of all," he started sternly, "Demons, ghosts? They can't get in here. We have WARDING, Dean. And second, even if they did get in, you're using the wrong gun."

"Well I'm sorry I didn't get to run and get the other gun when a demon was two feet behind me!"

"I told you to carve the symbol in all your bullets!"

"Okay okay!"

_It's not real, Dean. Stop going freaking crazy and focus on what's in front of you._

_What exactly is in front of me?_

_Stop asking complicated questions._

_...Ok but what if the demon is real?_

_The demon is not real Dean...wait I kind of have a point._

_I always have a point._

_No I don't._

_All the demons are back from hell. Hell's door is propped open, who knows what else is open? Azazel is here, Dean. He's back for Sammy and hes not going to go down without a fight._

_Azazel's not back._

_Azazel was just in your room, staring you down like ham on thanksgiving morning. He's gonna have your ass on a silver fucking platter and filet you to the raw nerve. Then he's gonna take Sammy-_

_No not Sammy-_

HELLO DEAN.

"Fuck!"

The words were like on 100% volume, practically ear rape to Dean. He covered his ears and yelped.

In fact, Dean got so startled, his lunch started to crawl up his throat.

Dean didn't know who said hello to him or where they were in his room, but he bolted for the bathroom, cleaving to his mouth for dear life.

———-

"C'mon, Dean." Sam chants, "Bring it up."

Just as Sam ends his hard rub of Dean's back with a hard hit, Dean hurls immediately, bringing up more than he's been getting out this whole day. Sam nods and turns away, covering his mouth with his arm, afraid he'll start vomiting too.

"There you go, good." Sam praised him, barely masking the disgust in his voice. Dean nodded, grabbing his towel that was slung over his shoulder and wiping his mouth. He backed away from the toilet and rest his back on the tub, revealing his face that's been hidden in the toilet bowl for an hour.

He looked sick, feverish, exhausted. His skin was a couple shades paler. Sam hated seeing his brother like this.

** _He pities you._ **

This was a new voice. Dean whipped his head to the left, where a strange man was leaned against the bathroom wall. He had yellow eyes. Dean almost lost his shit. His eyes widened in freight, but quickly averted them when he realized Sam was watching him.

He told himself the demon wasn't real, even when he didn't know for sure and didn't have any evidence to back it up.

Without warning, the bathroom door pushed open, revealing the angel himself, Castiel.

_Fuck, now he too has to see me like this._

Castiel took a couple steps inside the bathroom, far enough only to lean on the sink counter.

_Shit, he's staying in here._

"How are you feeling, Dean?" Cas asked worriedly.

Dean stared at the tile before blinking a couple times, reeling from a what felt like whiplash, even when he didn't move. He looked back up at the angel and nodded, "Yeah, yeah, I'm— hah— I'm fine. Sammy?"

"Hm?"

"Go take a break. You've been lookin' after me all day."

Sam was taken aback, leaving Dean here was clearly not in his interest. "Are you sure?"

_Please, just fucking leave, I don't need more than one person seeing me look like a wet rat._

Dean nodded and Sam took one more look at him before leaving the bathroom.

Castiel frowned, "You look far from fine. I can make you food?"

"What do you know about cooking?" Dean scoffed, not convinced that the angel without taste buds can operate a pot, pan, and uncooked meat.

"Sam taught me. Well, when I was human, of course. Now, I determine taste by pH balance, which I can sense when-"

"Spare me the science lesson, will yah?" Dean chuckled weakly.

They both smiled and for a moment before it died down. Cas had been staring at Dean's hands, watching them jump every so often. He knew something was terribly wrong with Dean, whether it be mentally or a physical disease. He would read Dean's mind, he would search the man's brain for the problem, but he swore that off long ago. The Winchester's were off limits, or anyone for that matter. No one deserved to have their minds racked, especially not Dean's (the place was a gutter since Cas last stepped foot inside).

And so, with that in mind, Castiel needed to talk about Dean and his ongoing "beef" with each other. It was gnawing at him from the inside and if he didn't make things right, perhaps it'll keep eating at him for the rest of eternity. He had tried once, twice even, to talk things out with Dean--it's always the same reaction: resentment.

But he'll keep trying, even if Dean doesn't want to hear it.

"I've tried before and I haven't came up with any luck," Cas started softly, "Dean, I'm sorry. I'll say it a thousand times if I have to. I'm sorry about not telling you about Jack--that I knew I screwed up. I know you still blame me about your mother-" Cas paused for a second as he saw Dean wince at the mention of Mary, but he kept going. "It's all my fault. Preach it to me if it makes you feel any better. I've tried to talk to you, but you just...don't wanna hear it, you don't care. I'm dead to you."

Dean shrugged and closed his eyes. His and Castiel's arguments from before came flooding back as soon as Cas had finished his sentence. How the fuck was Dean supposed to reply to that? How could Dean, who had just recently told off Castiel, ignored, and belittled him, answer that question and not sound like more of an asshole he already was? It just wasn't possible. Dean didn't even know if he could even have a serious conversation with Cas right now. Maybe Dean was overreacting. It's not Like Cas asked for his kidney.

_Let's give Cas a chance._

_A chance? He didn't even do anything wrong in the first place._

_Yes he did! He knew Jack would snap. He knew Jack wasn't stable and he didn't even tell me! He killed mom!_

_Mom is Cas's fault._

_Mom is Chuck's fault._

_Mom is dead, mom is dead, dead, dead_-

"Give me some time." Dean finally replied, voice low.

Dean saw a look flash across Cas's face but it was gone before Cas nodded, "As long as you need."

It was when the conversation had finally died down that Dean felt the room get hot. it was weird since the bunker is almost always cold, no matter what. The heat started to intensify until Dean realized he was the one getting hot. It augmented when Dean felt the bubbling of his skin, smelt the burning of his flesh, heard the sizzling of the hell fire strip away at his layers. Sooner than Dean thought, the bathroom was drowning in blood and gore. The gore made him gag, nearly vomit again. The whole bathroom was a crime scene, a dump site, something Dean can't fully describe. Something he'd only find in Hell.

** _Seem familiar, Deano? These are your greatest hits._ **

The hooks of the shower curtain were replaced by the hooks Dean remembered from the bodies he'd stack in Hell, the rugs were replaced by the skin of something's back, and more things he wanted to disappear. He squirmed and panicked as he felt the blood under him, soaking his clothes. He could hear Alistair's cold, mocking laughter that rang endlessly in his head come from the corner of the bathroom where the demon had stood, arms crossed, full of himself.

** _You're about as timid as your 10th year in the gutter. You're better than this Dean, but don't stop, I'm enjoying it._ **

"Stop." Dean begged, trying to compose himself. "Stop, stop, stop, stop-"

Dean kept chanting stop like a prayer until he remembered Cas was in the bathroom with him. He shot his head up to meet eyes with Cas, who looked worried out of his mind.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

Deans eyes were red rimmed. They carried all the fear and anger coursing through him right now. The man furrows his eyebrows and pulled the most confused look, "What's on the floor?" He pointed. He didn't say what it was or what he thought it was so he wouldn't sound completely crazy. He pointed specifically to be organ he honestly couldn't name that he saw clearly sitting next to his foot.

Cas looked down and hope rained over Dean as he knew Cas would see it. He has to see it, he's an angel. He'll just look up and tell Dean that there is, in fact, a liver laying on the floor and everyone would go on with their day. He'll look up and tell Dean he isn't crazy and everything he's seeing is real. He'll tell him this is a case and they can work it.

"Dean, I don't see anything."

Dean forced himself not to cry then. It was like a punch straight to the gut.

Thankfully, though, when Dean had looked back down to the tile out of disappointment, the gore was gone. But a feeling still lingered; his heart was still in his mouth. The fear, the anger.

_What the fuck is going on with me?_

————


	2. And the Memory Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on @truttyfristel's ide on Instagram :)

_Everyone thinks you're crazy._

_God, I'm losing my fucking mind._

_Are the demons even real?_

_Sam and Cas can't see them, so they're obviously not. They're gonna throw you in the looney bin until you rot. You'll be dead weight to them if you keep this up. You're no good to anybody._

_Ok, now you're just spit balling._

_Stop making up excuses for why you're losing your shit._

_Just last week I was fine. What happened?_

It's been a week or so since the last time Dean was pushed to the point of vomiting his stomach out. The week wasn't fun nor different. The same voices haunted him, the same demons stalked around the bunker, the same fear resided.

Dean's always angry, always a little scared, but this mix wouldn't go away. He's been marinating it it, completely submerged in hyper-vigilance since his first look at the demon that's been stalking him since the start of the apocalypse. The gore didn't seem to be wiped out either. Everything he remembers from hell has just been...popping up. It's always all of a sudden. The meat hooks, the screams, the hysteria, the body horror, the _blood_. Even those he couldn't save: Meg, Kevin, Charlie, Joe, Bobby, _**Mom**_...

He could tell Sam about it, tell him how many times he's felt like he was burning alive when he's reading through lore, tell him how he can't taste blood in his mouth ever so often, but he doesn't. He decides it'll be best to not tell him anything._ It's just another problem_, he says to himself,_ it'll pass_. Till this day, Sam doesn't know how the faces of the innocent, the ones he couldn't save, the monsters he's killed, haunted him every breath. Sam doesn't know that his brother hallucinates blood coating his hands— impossible to wash off.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice makes Dean jump. Dean's jumping at anything nowadays.

"Y-yeah, huh?" He stutters.

"You've...been staring blankly at the table for thirty minutes now. Something on your mind?"

Dean noticed he was sitting at the map table. All time between waking up and sitting at the table was gone.

"Thirty minutes?" Dean scoffed and chuckled nervously, "You're stretching it."

Cas decided not to correct Dean then, not willing to get into another argument with him that would inevitably be about how Cas always has "something negative to say." He lets the conversation rest for a moment before he starts up again.

"I was wondering if you had thought about what we talked about?"

Dean nodded, but didn't reply. He started the feel the room get hot again and he knew exactly what was coming. Cas, took Dean's silence as an opportunity to speak.

"Dean, I'm very worried about you. I know the...the whole apocalypse—it took a toll on all of us. You've been acting strange since last week, it really seems like something's wrong."

For some reason Dean couldn't find, tears started to well up in his eyes. Maybe it was because he found the opportunity to talk to someone about what he's going through or he couldn't take the burning of his skin anymore—he didn't know. But tears builded up until they fell on his cheeks. He rubbed at his skin as if he was trying to rub off the heat. Cas was startled by Dean's sudden tears, as he's never actually seen the man cry. He quickly took a seat beside him at the map table.

"Dean, what? What's going on?"

"It hurts." Dean choked out.

"What? What hurts?"

"The fire, the heat, all of it." Dean had held on tighter to what composure he had left, trying not to look too extreme in front of Cas. That's one thing he was afraid of: showing too much.

"Heat?" Cas is beyond confused. He looks Dean up and down and around the bunker as if he could find the source of the fire Dean was talking about.

Dean sniffed and nodded, "I keep seeing blood, I keep seeing limbs detached from bodies, I keep-I keep seeing Charlie beaten and broken, my mom's pale face. God, I can feel the hell fire!" Dean empties. "Ever since-"

"Ever since the apocalypse..." Cas finishes Dean's sentence. Dean nods with shock all over his face, "The demons—I keep seeing demons all over the bunker. I don't know if they're real, if they're just my hallucinations. Can demons be invisible?"

"I-...I don't know-"

"_Fuck_, I-" Dean almost broke down again but he quickly stopped his tears, wiping them away and trying his best to put on his default "Dean" face. "I just don't...don't know what to do."

The burning hadn't gone away, not at all. After Dean's burst of emotion, Cas had gone telling Dean that he was here for him and how he needed to further understand what he was talking about, but Dean didn't hear any of it. His awareness was overtaken by the burning of his skin and the sickly, metallic taste in his mouth. Another demon had popped up across from him and Cas, smirking evilly and sporting its cold, black eyes.

Dean shivered as he stared at it, anger building up like a hot spring in his core. God knows how Dean wanted to leap up and tear it apart.

Without a care on what Cas was talking about, he interrupted him, "Hey, there's a demon in the corner; real or not real?"

Dean pointed and Cas looked over.

There was a small silence as Cas stared at the spot Dean was pointing and it nearly drove Dean mad.

"Not real."

———————-

_As the days past, the more Dean began to live in his head. He seldom spoke unless he was spoken to, and even then, he didn't have much to say. Sam grew worried about him, more so than last week (or the week before that). He recognized that this was completely out of character for Dean who, on any day, would speak his mind with brutal honesty. Of course, speaking about his feelings wasn't in the mix, but he damn sure did talk a lot. Now, Dean just...didn't talk. Didn't call Jody and the girls, didn't rant about classic rock bands or compare different guitarists for who's better even when they all sounded the same to Sam. He was just mute._

_On top of that, Dean had been sick for the past two days. The vomiting was the first sign. Sam would go get medicine from the pharmacy but he'd have to do that later after he touches on Baby's breaks. So for now, Dean is a couch potato in his room watching horror movies and eating whatever Sam throws at him._

_Sam had called Jody, seeking help from an actual parent that might have some insight on mute siblings. Of course she didn't, but she did give Sam some advice: "You know you're brother better than anyone, boy. Use your big brain and think your way around this. Brother knows best."_

_"I...I think it's 'mother' knows best.'" Sam corrected her._

_"No, no it's brother. Brother knows best."_

_With that advice, Sam knew exactly what to do: go to Castiel._

_He didn't know if it was a decent idea considering Dean and Cas have been pruning up in hot water for going on a month now. The conflict and tension between them, to Sam's knowledge, was still fresh and fragile. But then he remembered what Jody had told him about him knowing Dean better than anyone one else in the world. If Sam felt that, in his gut, Cas was the way to help Dean, then he's gotta be right to some degree._

_Cas had come over many times on the last week. In fact, he's begun to stay over. He'd realized Sam and Dean weren't in the best place and it would just be adding gasoline to the fire if he goes MIA for days on end for a fifth time._

_“There’s something going on with Dean.”_

_“I’ve noticed.”_

_Sam settles down in one of the chairs at the map table, heaving out a heavy sigh of exhaustion. Cas slowly followed behind him and sat at the chair Dean had been sitting in. Sam cringed at Cas sitting where Dean left all his sick but then remembered Cas was an angel, and angels don’t get sick._

_“Have you tried speaking with him?” Sam threw the idea out there. Cas nodded contently. Sam’s eyes lit up with sudden excitement._

_“Y-You have? When? What did he say?”_

_“Mostly what he said was rambles followed by sobs. Kept talking about demons and…and fire. Fire coming from everywhere.”_

_“Demons?” Sam had remembered the time Dean had shot at nothing in his room and swore there was a demon. “What about demons?”_

_Cas sighed, not willing to go too into detail for his own sake. “He says…he’s been seeing demons all over the bunker, asking if—hah—demons can be invisible…” A pity smile appears on Cas’s face before it drops back to a frown. “I’ve been walking around the bunker, checking for signs of a demon but I’m coming up with nothing…”_

_“Do you think…maybe Dean’s imagining all of this? He’s hallucinating?”_

_Cas shrugged, “I couldn’t tell you.”_

Dean woke up with a yelp, eyes wide and mouth dry. He took in a deep breath and instantly regretted it when he felt the soreness of his throat. He’s still sick.

_Sam hadn’t gotten the medicine yet…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting trippy guys...


	3. Caught in a Landslide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an idea by @tuttyfrustel on Instagram :)

"YOU'RE A KILLER!" They laughed maniacally. "YOU'RE A FUCKING KILLER, DEAN WINCHESTER. A COLD BLOODED, MOTHER_FUCKING_ KILLER." 

Dean stared crazy eyed at the demon, almost as hysterically as they were. All he saw was his own face, the blood that trailed across his lips, pretty green eyes dilating, skin pale and painted in _red, red, red..._

"Now, Dean," The Empty circled around the shaking man, stalking. They dragged their fingers around his neck all the way to the dimples of his back. Dean's back arched at the cold of their fingers. 

The demon soon circled back around to face Dean again, pressing their cold palm to the side of his face. This time, he didn't look like Dean anymore. The demon had changed into his father. 

"You're going to stay here, alright? Sammy dearest won't even know you're gone because on top side, a copy of a copy is moving and grooving with your face and eyes." They whispered, mouth next to Dean's ear.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as if the words had shot daggers in his side. The words burned their way in Dean's ears and to his brain, taking every single thought he's ever had, red hot and _scorching_. 

"With you, Dean—O Christ—with you, I'm going to haunt you. Even if your sorry ass does find a way out, the slightest taste of freedom you get, I will always be there to destroy it all."

"_Why_?" The words stumbled out of Dean like a drunk leaving a bar. They trembled as his lips did, a ghost of a sob following it. 

And the demon only smiled. The smile reached ear to ear, rotten teeth and a god awful smell. Dean could see his surroundings become crimson red, could feel the fire start up again, felt the _evil_. 

"Because you want this."

Dean almost fainted then. 

"What the fuck do you mean I _want_ this?" Dean spat, face horror ridden.

"All those people you killed? All the demon deals, all the last breaths, the drunk, angry sex that messed up your street cred? All the innocent people _The Mark_ made you kill, the times you pushed the people you love away, the times Daddy yelled at you and cracked his belt? You blame yourself for all of it and you've been waiting on the perfect opportunity to waste yourself off, to finally put yourself through hell just like everyone else you've ever made a single _fucking_ interaction with."

"You don't know me. You're lying...." Dean shook his head.

"Well aren't you a liar, too?" The demon shot back. Dean hated how his dad's eyes stared back at him. He couldn't look at him. 

"Aren't you...a killer? A deceiver? A _disappointment_? Oh the words I could think of when you—what was it—yeah you tricked your brother into coming back to life as if it was your choice."

"Selfish." Dean suggested. The demon smirked, it's form changing to Mary. 

"There you go, that's it." 

Dean looked up at the demon as he heard the new voice.

"Mom?" The words slipped out accidentally, Dean immediately cringed at his desperation. 

The demon stared, stared for an uncomfortably long time. Dean almost went mad with the silence. That was until the demon let out a blood curdling roar that ma-

"Dean!" 

Dean awoke with a gasp. 

He sat up upright in bed, gasping for air like he had been choked out. As his senses slowly came back to him, he felt the cold sweat run down his neck, see nothing but darkness, hear his raspy breathing, taste the blood on his lips, and feel...feel a hand gripped tightly around his own.

Dean whipped around to only to see darkness again, this time it had frightened him. He wasn't afraid of the dark but he was afraid of what was lurking in it. Slowly, he could feel the heat rise to his face and a lump crawl up his throat as the hand started shaking him. Panic started to set in. 

_This is a nightmare.._

_This is a nightmare._

_None of it's real._

_None-_

_It's all just a fucking nightmare._

Dean couldn't make out if his son chants were in his head or if he was saying them out loud. Either way, he was moved to frustrated tears and tore his hand away from what we was grabbing him.

"Get away! Get _AWAY_-" Dean practically screamed. 

He thrashed and punched until he somehow managed to pin what(who)ever he was dealing with down on his mattress. 

"Dehm-" It's voice was muffled. "Dheam!"

Suddenly, the lights were on. Dean whipped his head towards his lamp that was...visible...

Reaching to the switch was an arm stretched for dear life. Dean's eyes darted down to the person it was attached to and-

...and it was Cas.

Dean doesn't know if it's real Cas or fake Cas, but he takes a guess.

Deans hand was wrapped around Cas's neck, the angel pale as snow, eyes glowing steel blue. Dean's other hand was held high above his head, ready to punch him out. Dean's eyes darted from Cas to his fist and back again until Dean, horrified, let go of his grip and dropped his fist.

"Cas?!" Dean heaved. "What's going on-"

"Dean, calm down-"

"W-What are you doing here-"

"Dean!" Cas silenced him then. "Do you know where you are?"

Immediate offense flashed across Dean's face before he frantically observed his surroundings. He was in his room. Dean's eyes landed back on Cas, who Dean had just noticed was shirtless and he himself was straddling. 

"I'm...I-I'm in my room—Why are you shirtless?"

"You...you don't remember anything from last night?"

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, gesturing that he didn't know what the fuck Cas was talking about. After that, Cas had stared into Dean's eyes for a solid 5 seconds trying to find any lie or denial, but he couldn't find any. 

"We fell asleep together, so don't worry, we didn't do...anything. Forget it..." Cas sighed, "You were crying in your sleep. I was waking you up to see what's wrong."

"I had a nightmare."

"A nightmare?"

You would know.

Dean rubbed his eyes, "I don't know..."

"Wanna talk about it?" Cas sat up and pressed his hand to Dean's back. Dean flinched, making Cas immediately pull his hand away. Dean, uncomfortable, started getting out of bed.

_If this is fake Cas, what good is it to stay here?_

On his way out the room, he looked over at his clock sat by the lamp that read 2:40 a.m.

"When the sun comes up, maybe."

Cas held his head down as if he had something to be ashamed of. Dean didn't see, but Cas pulled back on his clothes and left Dean's room as well.

When the sun came up, Dean's cold turned into a relentless fever. Snot and all. His temperature was so high, Sam is worried he's got some form of Ebola. Fevers never stopped Dean before, even if he's never actually had a proper, through and through one since he was 15. Back then, he was hunting easy stuff John thought was great practice for a boy his age (as messed up as that sounds), so he doesn't know what to do with himself with a fever mid-hell-outbreak. Nevertheless, he pushes through.

Or just as far as he can push. 

He woke up three times after his 3 a.m thought count with Cas: a stuffy nose at 4 a.m, a heat wave at 6, and gas at 8. In the end, he couldn't go back to sleep at 9. It was...weird. Again, stuff like this never happened to him since he was 15.

But it's a change. A big change. In fact, so much of a change that Dean hasn't seen a drop of blood, hasn't heard one whisper in his ear since he woke up.

Maybe Dean was relived to be sick. Besides, he went on a drive with Sam. At first it was peaceful. They had been driving back to the bunker after a trip around town. They had been working a local case that involved a vampire and it’s ex-lover. With a vamp so close to home, the Winchesters will need to investigate a possible vamp nest, but on another day. Dean just worked this case to get his mind off of recent events. 

The hunt did work, though. Dean did feel a little better. As better as he could be.

On the drive back is when Dean wasn’t feeling any good at all. The fire had came back, but it didn’t start as strongly as before though. But he felt it. The paranoia set in and it’s was getting increasingly difficult to drive. 

Things escalated until Dean couldn’t take it anymore. 

"Sam, we have a problem." 

The topic came up when Sam and Dean were on the side of the road. Baby lurched forward, tires sounded as if they were tearing off as they screeched, rubber nearly burning up. Immediately, Sam goes flying toward the dashboard, eyes locked tight as he braces himself for impact. His screams of fear don't hesitate to escape his throat before they turn into loud, furious words towards Dean for the sudden stop. Sam's got a busted lip and an open cut on his forehead now, a cheekbone hit that's ready to bruise any minute, and a _god-awful_ bucket of anger and confusion ready to pour on his brother. This was Dean's fault after all.

But it's not Dean's fault. Not really.

It's a couple seconds in Sam's ranting that he notices the off look on his brothers face.

"Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sammy, get out the car." Dean says with a grunt. His face twisted up with extreme discomfort, face and neck turning firetruck red in a matter of seconds. His nose starts to run and bleed and his eyes start to sting, whole body starts to ache.

Sam watches his brother redden and squirm in the drivers seat with a concerned yet disgusted look on his face as if he were at the morgue or something. He puts a hand to Dean's back, 

"Dean, what's going on-"

"Dammit, Sam, just get out the car!" 

And with that, Dean slams his hand to the door handle with a firm grip before he opens it quickly and falls through. He lands on the dirt road with a yelp. With a stingy eye, he watches Sam's footsteps under the car hurry their way over to him.

Sam kneels down and holds his brothers head, "What's going on?"

"It-I-It hurts!" He yells through his teeth, gasping.

"Where, man, tell me where-"

"_**Everywhere**_!" The words are forced and Dean begins to cry, tears rolling down his face like a fucking river. 

"_Fuck_," he curses, "It feels like someone sprayed mace all over my body then set me on **_FIRE_**-"

It's not his fault, because there's a voice in his head that sounds awfully like Castiel’s voice, or hell’s bell.

"Cas?" Dean breathes out.

"Cas?" Sam repeats, confused. "Cas isn't here, Dee."

"Inside...inside my head!" Dean isn't making any sense to Sam at this point. Sweat is relentlessly pouring down the man's face and Sam could only pat him dry.

Eventually, Sam got Dean up off the floor and hurried him in the backseat of Baby, almost chopping Dean's leg off as he forgot to push it further in before closing the door. 

"Fuck!" Dean screamed.

"Sorry!"

Sam pressed on the gas all the way back to the bunker. 

—————————

"Cas...when you get this, call back. Dean...Dean's not doing good. He’s getting worse. By the looks of it, it's got something to do with your voice in his head or...whatever it is, please be here." 

Sam hangs up his phone and lets out a heavy sigh of exhaustion. He had just hauled his 200 pound brother upstairs and downstairs and another 500 miles from the war room to his actual bedroom. Dean didn't help either. He just let Sam carry him like a freaking rock, like a paperweight. 

Sam practically threw Dean down on the bed when he couldn't take the strain on his arms anymore. Dean bitched but Sam shot back something along the lines of, "I could've left you on the ground and drove away."

Deans nose was still bleeding often. Sam had pulled a cloth out of the drawer beside the bed for him to use to wipe up the blood, but the white cloth was slowly becoming red as Dean's face and neck. 

Sam didn't dare touch him. Dean would jump and yelp as any type of contact hurt like hell deep fried and skewered. Dean is the only one that can tell you how agonizingly painful Sam carrying him was. A bed of needles, that's what it felt like. 

After getting a glass of water and setting it on the bedside table, Sam sat on the end of the bed by Dean's feet. 

"Does it still hurt?"

Dean's eyes slowly moved to Sam before they closed again, "Hell."

Sam wanted to laugh, but he didn't. 

"C'mon talk to me, what's going on with you?”

Dean flinched like someone had thrown something in his face, but it was just the pain acting up again. It had died down 20 minutes ago, but occasionally returning like it was starting to now. 

"It feels like..." Dean searched for words, "Like forgetting where you put a needle, then sitting down and feeling the needle poke at your butt...but like...a thousand needles."

Sam twisted his face up in cringe, almost feeling the needle on his own butt. 

—————-

Of course, Dean wasn't completely free and void of all things related to his demonic stalker. Sam and Cas decided to have a serious sit down with Dean to figure out what exactly is going on. No self deprecating thoughts and zero fire bubbling skin meant freedom. Dean's not feeling pretty free right now.

"Dean, what exactly have you been seeing?" Sam asked.

_Is he serious?_

Dean kept staring at the floor for a moment before turning to Sam, eyes tired. "Hell. Hell over again. All 40 years compressed into a fucking zip file..." Dean chuckled sadly. 

Sam had this pity look on that made Dean have to look away, hatred of it all just seeping under his skin. 

"The demons you were telling me about, the ones following you-" 

"Yeah, what about them?" Dean cut Cas off.

Sam knit his eyebrows together, "I'm sorry, demons? _Following you?_ When were you gonna tell me this?"

_He's actually dumb._

Dean crossed his arms, "Didn't you already know?" 

"Already _know_? What do you mean?"

"Cas told you, I _heard_ you..." The end of Dean's sentence trailed off in uncertainty.

"Dean, you really think if I knew already I would've left the matter to sit for so long?" Sam was offended, in complete disbelief that his brother would think so lowly of him.

"Dean, you heard me tell Sam?" Cas was trying to put 2 and 2 together.

Dean looked back up, "I heard...I saw you." More uncertainty followed this response.

"You don't sound like you believe it either."

_You're starting to sound like the fucking demon, asshole._

Dean snapped out of his self-doubt and gave Cas a stern look, "I know what I heard! You told Cas about my demons, the fire, all of it! You guys think I'm-I'm making it all up! Sam, you even told Jody! Why would you tell her, you know she's gonna worry."

Sam was losing his head listening to Dean now. He put his hand up in defense, "Woah! Dean, what the hell are you talking about—I haven't called Jody in a month!"

"_**Liar!**_" Dean jumped up to his feet, his shout echoing.

Cas placed a hand in Dean's forearm, pulling him back from Sam. Dean flinched but shrugged it off as he was too angry to care what the hell he thought Cas's hand was. 

"Dean, Sam isn't the person you should be angry at."

"No. No, you don't get to tell me what the hell I should be angry at." Dean turned to Cas, voice low and threatening, "After what _you_ did? Don't even fucking start."

Cas was taken aback, visibly affected by Dean's words.

"Sam? Sam—You and Sam— knew about what was going on with me and you did nothing!"

"Dean, you obviously have your timeline mixed up-"

_Go ahead and incriminate yourself, you crusty ass demon. _

"Oh, bite me!" Dean shot are his brother, or what appears to be. “It’s not like you care. I’m fine, anyways.”

Sam almost _lost his mind_, “Dean, you just fell over _on the side of the road!_ I drove and carried you all the way home I-”

“Guys, shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Cas yelled. 

Cas has had enough. He doesn't know what snapped in him but something did. An idea had popped in his mind and he didn't give it any thought but he acted n it.

"Dean, we're taking you to the dungeon." 

Perhaps it sounded mean coming out of Cas's mouth, maybe even harsh, but Cas didn't care. And sure, Dean put up one hell of a fight, but with Sam and Cas together, they successfully got Dean to the dungeon and sat his down in their infamous chair that holds all sorts of memories. They didn't tie him up or anything of that nature, but with Dean's attitude, Cas is on the brink of doing so.

"Why am I here?" Dean thundered. "Cmon, you demonic sonofabitch, _IM TIRED OF THE FUCKING GAMES._"

Cas looked confused for a while before-

-before it all clicked into place.

Cas started to realize something and...what followed it was an overwhelming, crushing feeling of sadness and—for lack of a better word on Cas's part—pity.

Cas took a couple steps toward Dean slowly, still trying to configure his realization. When he was about a step away from the man, he stopped. Dean looked up at him and Cas let out a sigh, "You think I'm not _real_?"

Dean didn't respond.

"Dean, I know this must be hard to believe, but you have to understand that this is the real me, Sam is the real him, I don't know what you-"

Dean cut Cas off when he started to laugh, it startled Cas. "_Really_? I know I break easily, _God knows I know that_, but please..." Dean shook his head down, "-_please_ don't use Cas."

Cas almost screamed.

Sam, noticing Cas's frustration, took over the conversation, "Think, Dean, think. Think about everything that has happened since..."

"Since Hell broke loose." Cas adds.

"Is there anything new about me? About Cas? I know it's hard, Dean—_I_ of all people know it's hard—but just think."

Dean's face went blank a little, "Maybe..."

Dean wanted to laugh at it. He really did, but he doesn't know if he could. At this point, the levee was about to break and, God, Dean didn't want to cry in front of them again. He knew Cas and Sam were just another one of the demon's antics. Maybe a more sophisticated antic but Dean knew better. All day everyday, he sees new blood, new limbs, new severed heads and dead Marys. Feels new heat, new pain, and more agony. And all the while he has to try his fucking hardest to seem like he's doing okay but he hasn't been doing a good job of it, to be honest. 

He doesn't know how Sam did it. After he came back from Hell, Sam at least gathered some composer, acted okay for just a while. Dean can barely sleep soundly. Hell is consuming his perspective and it's blending in so evenly to real life that's its confusing. The demon seemed to be laying off right now and yeah Dean couldn't be happier, but he didn't want to be in a psych ward everytime he got a breath of fresh air. 

Cas watched Dean, trying to decide what to do. He sighed, "I'm going to keep an eye on you, okay?"

"What are you, my fucking babysitter? C'mon Cas, I'm a big boy now." Dean mocked the situation, furthering Cas and Sam's frustration.


End file.
